


Professor Wonder

by delikitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Draco doesn't know how to deal with teenage girls, F/M, Healing, Humor, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Potions Professor, Rivalry, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Unstable Beginnings, cute first-years, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delikitty/pseuds/delikitty
Summary: It took a persistent owl and an annoyingly stubborn headmistress to get Draco out of the Malfoy Manor and front of the Hogwarts to take up the vacant Potions Master position despite all odds and disapproval.And it takes a ragtag band of Hogwarts students to show Draco that life is more than the burdens of the past and guilt that can not be redeemed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I'm currently a high school student! Forgive me, but my update schedule will be unpredictable. It could be a day, a week, or month before I update the next chapter. 
> 
> I'm looking forward to exploring and playing around with Draco and his interactions with his students!  
> Posted in AO3 and FF

**_“_ ** **_Une personne rencontre souvent sa destinée sur la route qu’il a prise pour l’éviter.”_ **

_”A person often meets his destiny on the road he has taken to avoid it.”_

-Jean de La Fontaine

* * *

 

 ** _Prologue_**           

               Draco Malfoy assumed after years of school bullying, months of being a Death Eater, and a prison sentence had smashed his social life to smithereens and nothingness. Goodbye, adieu, and sayonara. At least, there were no more hyenas loitering around with their mamas, seeking to snare the Malfoy heir in a matrimonial prison. It’s a skill Draco had acquired more recently to count his lucky stars where he could find them. Apparently, as Draco stares at the disgruntled Barn owl on his breakfast plate, his social life had not been destroyed after all.

                The owl hoots indignantly, waving the leg with an attached missive towards him. Its feathers are askew and sodden, signifying an arduous journey from wherever it was sent from to the Malfoy Manor. Draco drops the kitchen knife he grabbed by instinct and unties the missive. The owl stays. Whoever had wrote to him was expecting an answer back.

               Whom could it be _?_  The _Wizengmot?_ Draco took in a sudden breathe, a lurching sense of nausea frothing in his stomach. Had the court suddenly deemed his punishment of a three-year trip to Azkaban and permanent-until-further-notice house arrest too lenient to fit his crimes? Of course, it was. His fellow Death Eater mates were rotting in their cells for life, while he had held a significantly longer end of the straw. The only thing that had saved his ass and his mother from getting the same punishments was from the support of Harry Potter, the “Chosen One”. He had no allies in the court anyway due to the new roster of the court following the end of the war. The previous allies that were bought on the Malfoy wealth were retired or cowards unwilling to express their support to the sullied Malfoy name. Giving a wry smile at the vulnerability of his position, Draco glances down at the letter. And stares. The corner of his mouth drops.

_Mr. D. Malfoy_

_Dining Room_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Wiltshire_

Feeling a sense of horrible Déjà vu, Draco hurriedly turns the letter over. On the waxy surface of the seal, Draco can see a coat of arms engraved with a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. Right in the middle- you couldn’t miss it- is the letter H.  With trembling hands, he opens the letter with the butter knife and begins reading. His eyes swivel right to left, then back again. Disbelief blooms in his eyes.

                He reads the letter again. Slowly.

                Then again. Slower.

                The owl hoots impatiently, tapping its claws against the china under it. Finally, Draco tears his eyes from the parchment to send his most disapproving gaze at the bird.

                “Sod. Off.” He says carefully.

                Giving him wide, affronted eyes, the owl screeches its reply.

                Draco uses the butter to jab harmlessly at its breast. “Get out of my manor,” he growls.

                Spreading its wings with an owlish expression of outrage and chagrin, the owl leaves in a flurry of feathers. It doesn’t forget to knock Draco upside the head in its retreat and dodges the toast the Draco throws in retaliation.

                His appetite was officially spoiled. Draco glares at the letter in front of him, his eyes like slits. The letter stares back, unimpressed. Draco mutters an oath. At the end of the parchment and in elegant script, the letter reads:

                _At your earliest convenience,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

 

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Draco burst into the Headmaster’s Office, breathing heavily and carrying a very very disgruntled Barn owl on his shoulder and a very nervous, young man in tow. The portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses gasped at the sudden sight of him, muttering among themselves rather excitedly as it has been a while since anything of great abnormality had happened in the office. Some of them hissed in a kneazle-like fashion. On the other hand, the portrait of the Phineas Nigellus Black exclaimed -quite happily-, “My great-great-great-grandchild!”

Draco ignored the portraits. His eyes wildly searched for something. Someone.

“ _You!”_ He hissed. _“You batty, old, foul-“_

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall peered at him over square spectacles, thoroughly unimpressed. She held a quill in hand and was seated in the middle of the circular room in a straight back chair, over a desk piled high with documents and letters. Draco stopped in front of her. His hands slammed on her desk.

“Enough?” He roared. The owl on his shoulder squawked and flew to Professor McGonagall’s shoulder. The sight enraged Draco further. “What do you know of “ _enough”_? It was “enough” when the 11th owl returned to you without an answer. It was “enough” when I couldn’t get to my dining room because I was stuck in a knee-deep swamp of _bloody_ letters. It was “enough”- you old codger- when I found a damn letter in my damn bottle of whiskey! At the rate you were going, I could’ve died from suffocation just because YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND THE WORD “ENOUGH”!”

Silence ensued. His chest moved up and down in exertion. The portraits had stilled and stared openly at him. Behind, the young man quivered. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

“Yet, Mr. Malfoy, I can’t help but notice that you are alive and well if the set of lungs you have on you is any indication of good health. How fortunate. If you, indeed, died of suffocation- an unlikely event in itself- then I would’ve gone for another trouble to search for other suitable candidates.” With that said, Professor McGonagall bent her grey head again and resumed writing.  

“Well, even if I am alive you’re still going to be searching,” Draco said hotly.

She pretended not to hear that remark. Instead, she said,” I assumed by your attendance today, you’ve decided to accept my offer?”

 “No. I came to demand you to cease this rubbish. Congratulations, I specifically sent a request towards to Ministry to allow me to come to see you. They even sent an entourage.” He gestured to the young man behind him, who had been watching the entire exchange with wide eyes from a corner in the room. “The next time I will ever be allowed to come out again is about-“ Draco consulted his watch, “- two years from now. If you haven’t been able to follow with me with that feeble mind of yours, I’m going to say this very plainly.”

Draco readied himself and spoke in a slow, clear voice. “I won’t accept your offer. Now, bugger off.”

Professor McGonagall looked up from her letter.

“Why not?” She demanded.

Draco stared at her disbelief. “Pardon, but have you gone _completely_ mental? Are you aware your perfect candidate has just been recently released from Azkaban? Or that he’s fought on the dark side during the War? Or let Death Eaters in the school during his 6th year or that he watched Dumbledore die in front of him?”

She didn’t flinch but looked at him with calm eyes. “I must ask you to take a seat.”

She reached out with her wand and waved. An object hit the back of Draco’s knees and then he found himself toppled into a comfortable chintz chair.

 “I’m well aware of your history, Mr. Malfoy. But you are no doubt the most suitable person to teach Potions.  With Horace Slughorn retired, his substitutes have all been subpar. You have been the top of your class in Potions and mentored by Severus. I’ve heard of your achievements during Azkaban and those are no ordinary achievements. You’ve perfected the formula for the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons and created an entirely new cure to Dragon Pox.”

Draco swallowed. His time in Azkaban had not been a joyful journey, but his renowned skills in Potions had certainly helped it. In an extremely special case, the ministry had commissioned him to create new potions for magical maladies that had been previously incurable or had cures that needed improvement. Under the careful watch of two Aurors, Draco has been allowed a small cell separate from his main cell to experiment. It had been the only time during his imprisonment that he had felt anything other than loneliness, anger, or guilt.

There was a cough. Both of them turned their heads to look at the young man standing in the room. He was a rather pasty-faced man who had the tendency to tremble under any scrutiny.

“F-forgive me,” he said. “My n-name is… Auror- I mean- my name is Billy B-Bobinsky, but my occupation is an Auror.” Realizing that he was rambling, Bobinsky swallowed and started again. “W-with all due respect, Draco M-Malfoy is unsuitable for the j-job, Professor McGonagall. He’s a-a D-D-Death Eater!”

The poor man turned a rather miserable shade of pink as he spluttered. Draco turned his head back towards her, an eyebrow raised. “There you have it. Even if I accept the job, no respectable parent would be willing to send their children to learn under me. You’d have a riot under your hands with a demand to sack me. All futile in my opinion. We should stop now.”

Professor McGonagall sent a stern glance towards Bobinsky, who shrank under her gaze. She turned back to Draco, her voice steely. “Anything that will happen as a result will be taken care of by me. I will be responsible for your time here as a professor.”

“Cute, but I’m not a little boy in need of coddling. Besides, how would this benefit me? I’ve never developed a particular fondness for Hogwarts nor am I in the mood to tolerate snot-nosed brats and their inability to differentiate between a daisy and their own arse.”

“You are every inch a Slytherin, aren’t you,” she sighed. “I was hoping that you’d try to exceed expectations.” Draco snorted. “Very well, your house arrest will be reprieved and you are free to take up residence at Hogwarts, free from Ministry supervision.” She stopped, letting Draco soak up this. However, he wasn’t won over. “Except?” He prodded.

A pause.

“Except you are expected to stay on Hogwarts grounds at all times. Visits to Hogsmeade must be done so accompanied by a professor. Any owl delivery outside of the school will be inspected.”

Draco nodded. “It won’t be any different than a house arrest. Even worse than a house arrest actually.” Draco made a move to get up, feeling a sudden exhaustion settle in his bones. ”Well then if you have nothing else to say, I best be on my way.” Warily, he wondered if there was any the wine left in the 1840 bottle in his office.

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes briefly. “Wait.”

“Professor, I can't say it's been a lovely time. It's been a rather useless time really. The weather seer predicted a nasty storm brewing. I must be going.”

He walked to the door, jerking his head at Bobinsky. Phineas called at him from his portrait to come back, while the others muttered good riddance. The barn owl soared to perch on Draco once more, nipping at his ear. Draco growled. ” Stop it you mangy beast.”

“Your wand.”

He stilled in place, his hand on the door handle.

“Your request for your wand will be unlikely to be fulfilled or has been ignored entirely. If you accept the offer, I will inform the Ministry to reinstate your wand. You will be allowed to use magic at Hogwarts. At any rate, I doubt moping under house arrest is better than that.” A squeak from Bobinsky went ignored.

Draco’s hand slid from the handle. His wand. He felt his body twitch at the prospect of wielding the smooth hawthorn wood surface. Weeks spent in the manor had been an utterly boring affair. His magic was restricted and he was forced to live like a squib in the meantime. It was humiliating for a Malfoy to not be able to use magic. Not just a Malfoy, but it was embarrassing for any respectable wizard to be reduced to such a primitive lifestyle. A wand to a wizard was like wings to a bird or sunlight to a flower. He felt groggy without his wand. Displaced. Unnatural.

“Let me get this straight.” He walked back to the desk, staring into her bespectacled eyes. “I accept the position. You’ll be responsible for me. I will be allowed to use magic.”

“Correct.”

“However?”

“I’ve told you of your restrictions at Hogwarts. You may use any magic, but- of course- any usage of Dark magic will not be tolerated and the ministry will be notified immediately.”

Draco felt his blood thrum underneath his skin and his vision blurred. Magic. He’s been deprived of it for so long. On the other hand, he had no idea how to teach, regardless of his Potions skill. Frankly, he didn’t even have the personality for it. His patience only extended to potions and little else. He didn’t even like children in particular either. Would his students be afraid of their own professor, a Death Eater?

But magic.

Draco hesitated.

He met Professor McGonagall’s eyes again. All around them, portraits and Bobinsky held their breath.

“I accept your offer. I’ll be the Potions professor.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. If she was pleased by his announcement, she did not show it. She lifted her hand towards him and after a brief moment, he met it with his own.

They shook on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! They're an encouragement!


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